was, in fact, the same view she’d had of Jack McCallum the first time they’d met, when they’d both been ER residents in San Francisco General Hospital. He had been standing at the nurses’ station, writing in a chart, his broad shoulders sloping from fatigue, his hair ruffled as though he’d just rolled out of bed. In fact, he had; it was the morning after a hectic night on call, and though he was unshaven and bleary-eyed, when he’d turned and looked at her for the first time, the attraction between them had been instantaneous.
Now Jack was ten years older, his dark hair was threaded with gray, and fatigue was once again weighing down on his shoulders. She had not seen him in three weeks, had spoken to him only briefly on the phone a few days ago, a conversation that had deteriorated into yet another noisy disagreement. These days they could not seem to be reasonable with each other, could not carry on a civilized conversation, however brief.
So it was with apprehension that she continued down the hall in his direction.
Hank Millar spotted her first, and his face instantly tensed, as though he knew a battle was imminent, and he wanted to get the hell out of there before the shooting started. Jack must have seen the change in Hank’s expression as well, because he turned to see what had inspired it.
At his first glimpse of Emma, he seemed to freeze, a spontaneous smile of greeting half-formed on his face. It was almost, but not quite, a look of both surprise and gladness to see her. Then something else took control, and his smile vanished, replaced by a look that was neither friendly nor unfriendly, merely neutral. The face of a stranger, she thought, and that was somehow more painful than if he had greeted her with outright hostility. At least then there would’ve been some emotion left, some remnant, however tattered, of a marriage that had once been happy.
She found herself responding to his flat look with an expression that was every bit as neutral. When she spoke, she addressed both men at the same time, favoring neither.
‘Gordon told me about Debbie,’ she said. ‘How is she doing?’
Hank glanced at Jack, waiting for him to answer first. Finally Hank said, ‘She’s still unconscious. We’re sort of holding a vigil in the waiting room. If you want to join us.’
‘Yes. Of course.’ She started toward the visitors’ waiting room.
‘Emma,’ Jack called out. ‘Can we talk?’
‘I’ll see you both later,’ said Hank, and he made a hasty retreat down the hall. They waited for him to disappear around the corner, then looked at each other.
‘Debbie’s not doing well,’ said Jack.
‘What happened?’
‘She had an epidural bleed. Came in conscious and talking. In a matter of minutes, she went straight downhill. I was busy with another patient. I didn’t realize it in time. Didn’t drill the burr hole until…’ He paused and looked away. ‘She’s on a ventilator.’
Emma reached out to touch him, then stopped herself, knowing that he would only shake her off. It had been so long since he’d accepted any words of comfort from her. No matter what she said, how sincerely she meant it, he would regard it as pity. And that he despised.
‘It’s a hard diagnosis to make, Jack,’ was all she could say.
‘I should have made it sooner.’
‘You said she went downhill fast. Don’t second-guess yourself.’
‘That doesn’t make me feel a hell of a lot better.’
‘I’m not trying to make you feel better!’ she said in exasperation. ‘I’m just pointing out the simple fact that you did make the right diagnosis. And you acted on it. For once, can’t you cut yourself some slack?’
‘Look, this isn’t about me, okay?’ he shot back. ‘It’s about you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Debbie won’t be leaving the hospital anytime soon. And that means Bill…’
‘I know. Gordon Obie gave me the heads-up.’
Jack paused. ‘It’s been decided?’
She nodded. ‘Bill’s coming home. I’ll replace him on the next flight.’ Her gaze drifted toward the ICU. ‘They have two kids,’ she said softly. ‘He can’t stay up there. Not for another three months.’
‘You’re not ready. You haven’t had time—’
‘I’ll be ready.’ She turned.
‘Emma.’ He reached out to stop her, and the touch of his hand took her by surprise. She looked back at him. At once he released her.
‘When are you leaving for Kennedy?’ he asked.
‘A week. Quarantine.’
He looked stunned. He said nothing, still trying to absorb the news.
‘That reminds me,’ she said. ‘Could you take care of Humphrey while I’m gone?’
‘Why not a kennel?’
‘It’s cruel to keep a cat penned up for three months.’
‘Has the little monster been declawed yet?’
‘Come on, Jack. He only shreds things when he’s feeling ignored. Pay attention to him, and he’ll leave your furniture alone.’
Jack glanced up as a page was announced over the address system: ‘Dr McCallum to ER. Dr McCallum to ER.’
‘I guess you have to go,’ she said, already turning away.
‘Wait. This is happening so fast. We haven’t had time to talk.’
‘If it’s about the divorce, my lawyer can answer any questions while I’m gone.’
‘No.’ He startled her with his sharp note of anger. ‘No, I don’t want to talk to your lawyer!’
‘Then what do you need to tell me?’
He stared at her for a moment, as though hunting for words. ‘It’s about this mission,’ he finally said. ‘It’s too rushed. It doesn’t feel right to me.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You’re a last-minute replacement. You’re going up with a different crew.’
‘Vance runs a tight ship. I’m perfectly comfortable with this launch.’
‘What about on the station? This could stretch your stay to six months in orbit.’
‘I can deal with it.’
‘But it wasn’t planned. It’s been thrown together at the last minute.’
‘What are you saying I should do, Jack? Wimp out?’
‘I
